"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity." ~ Gilda Radner

Friday, February 01, 2008

I MISS JERRY SEINFELD

I really do.

I'm not a big TV watcher, but when I am in the mood to just sit down in front of the ol' boob tube -- or boob plasma/lcd, if that is what you have -- and let my brains go on hiatus for an hour or two, I find it disheartening to have nothing to choose from but channel after channel of blood, guts and microscopes, missing people, criminal minds, unrealistic reality/survivor/big brother schlock, and most recently, that dippy modern day version of To Tell The Truth where folks risk alienating their entire family by allowing themselves to be hooked up to a lie detector and on national TV asked none-of-anyone's business questions like, 'Have you ever gambled away a portion of your children's college fund?" all for a paltry $500,000.

(OK, OK, so we once had to clean out Daniel's second grade Junior Banking Account (a whopping, albeit hard-earned $72) to buy groceries when times were lean, but we are paying him back, with interest, in phone cards and eight-packs of Gatorade.)

Anyway, I didn't realize how much I missed TV's "good ol' days", as it were, until just this week when I woke up in the middle of the night, couldn't get back to sleep -- as I am prone to do at my interesting age -- and was treated to a couple of Seinfeld re-runs on Fox.

One of the episodes happened to be a montage of episodes from their 9-year run, a hodge-podge of excellently executed hilarity that left me laughing and happy, which is no small feat these days.

Now there was a great TV show. There was a half hour worth spending in front of the TV. No blood, no guts, no kidnapped, raped, hacked-up bodies...it was pure, unadulterated -- what's that word, again...oh, yeah...ENTERTAINMENT.

Hell, I'd give my eye teeth -- what's left of them -- for a good one-hour comedy/variety show like Carol Burnett...or a rip-roaring sit-com like Bob Newhart...

Which only goes to prove that I am, indeed, growing old, and that it's been a long winter here in ol' Ioway, and maybe we need cable or dish or whatever...but is life with a million channels any really more satisfying? Although, TV Land, when we could afford it, was one of my faves.

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Life at 58...Yikes-a-Roni! For me, Annie, life coming around The Home Stretch has been nothing like I imagined it would be from the illusionary vantage point of 30.What happened to Easy Street? When did my hormones shrink? When did the crows lend my eyes their feet? And at what point did I lose the strength to open a jar of pickles?Sound familiar? If so, grab a cuppa joe, sit back and soak up my searing post-menopausal insight and wisdom set to some great tunes! Thanks for stopping by The Home Stretch!